Mischief Managed
by Seeing Fire
Summary: One month after Fred's death, George Weasley tries to adjust to life without him, and finds unexpected comfort from Ron. *One Shot*


'_How you feeling, Georgie?'_

'_Saint-like.'_

'_Come again?'_

'_I'm holy..._Holey,_ Fred, get it?'_

George woke up sweating. He'd had another flashback: they were always about Fred. One night it was Fred lying bled white upon the stone floor of the Hogwarts Great Hall, another night it was he and George playing pranks on Filch, the next it was their spectacularly memorable departure from Hogwarts. Tonight, it was the night when George lost his ear.

He didn't even bother trying to fall back asleep; after a month of closing his eyes only to see Fred, he knew there was no use. He got out of bed and crept out of the room, sneaking down the hall. Ever since the Battle of Hogwarts, Mum had insisted he stay with them for a while. She'd said it was because the family needed some time together for a few weeks, but George knew it was because she wasn't ready to accept Fred's absence. Maybe if his look-alike stayed with her, it wouldn't be real. She could see Fred every day, in a sense, and she wouldn't have to let go.

George wished it were true.

He sat at the kitchen table and pulled out a Nosebleed Nougat, fingering it almost obsessively. Fred had helped him make this, his partner in crime, like he'd helped him create a legend at Hogwarts, and then a business, which, by this time, had become the official bane of Mr Filch: despite the twins' absence, three in four students possessed merchandise of mischief bought at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. George put his head in his hands, overwhelmed with the memories. The two of them had always been together; George foolishly assumed they would always be. He'd often had nightmares featuring slow and painful deaths, but even then, he'd been with Fred. Even in his dreams, they weren't separated.

He heard the thumping of footsteps coming down the stairs, and out came Ron. He sat next to George, and looked at him.

'I heard you sneak out', said Ron. 'Reckoned you might want some company.'

George smiled a bit. 'Wouldn't hate it.'

Ron nodded, as though he understood. 'He'd have wanted it this way, mate. He always wanted to leave something behind, and he did. Harry told me about what it's like to die, and he said Fred wasn't in pain. Besides, he's not really gone, though, is he? I mean, we've still got our memories, right?'

George didn't answer. He supposed that if it came down to it, Fred would have wanted to go down fighting, but that didn't change the fact that he was gone.

'I like to think that he's watching us', continued Ron. 'You know, checking in on us from time to time. Laughing a bit. Making fun of Bill and Fleur. Calling Percy a stuck up idiot. I can see him doing that.'

George managed to smile bit. He pictured Fred up there, surrounded by Lupin and Tonks and Dumbledore and Dobby, insulting Umbridge and musing about ways students could further torment Filch, and trading stories with Sirius about pranks which had become legend among the Hogwarts students and teachers.

'You should get back to bed, mate. Fred wouldn't want you to get ill over this.'

'I'll be up there in a minute, little brother, don't panic. Georgie wouldn't abandon you.'

'On the other hand', replied Ron, irritated, 'you can feel free to stay down here as long as you want.' And with that, Ron trumped back up the stairs. George heard the door of the upstairs bedroom close with a snap and smiled victoriously. Even after all that had happened, he still knew how to annoy Ron; he hadn't lost his touch. He made a mental note to give those tips to Hermione when he next got the chance.

Ron hadn't often comforted George; actually, he'd never gotten the chance before George annoyed him and got him to go away. But he liked the idea that Fred was watching him, maybe even cheering him on as he hid his face in disgust whenever he looked at Bill and Fleur, and as he made Ron feel like a seven year old (all in good fun, of course).

George reached into the left pocket of his robe and pulled out a Chocolate Frog card to see his twin grinning up at him. There stood Fred Weasley, his face happy and careless, free from the pain of the war. George smiled and placed it back in his pocket, quietly muttering, 'Mischief managed.'

**So this is my first One Shot. Please give reviews, whether good or bad; I'd love to hear feedback from you all. –Seeing Fire**


End file.
